


till death (and taxes) do us part

by Oparu



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Marriage Proposal, Taxes, tax dragon is one of my most favorite ridiculous things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 04:04:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13240029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: Maleficent becomes obsessed with taxes and realizes if she and Regina got married, they'd save money. (total tax dragon fluff)





	till death (and taxes) do us part

**Author's Note:**

> for the prompt: “we’re getting fake engaged for [insert reason here]”
> 
> (I picked taxes, because that’s hilarious to me.)

 

In hindsight, teaching Maleficent about taxes was the start of a very slippery slope. She loved money, not just the spending of it (though clothing was a weakness) or the accumulation of it (Regina, dear, did you know you can invest money in these other companies and they’ll pay you dividends for doing nothing at all, just leaving your money there in the stock yard?), but all the things that it did. Money made the town run properly, money kept the school open and heated, it kept the harbor in good order and paid the very kind wolf to restock the bar. 

Taxes were the way Storybrooke managed money, so in order to get Maleficent’s help with the ever more tedious job of running the town, she’d had to explain the tax code. Maleficent’s eyes had lit up and then she’d been lost. There were entire realms of forms about money, paperwork about money, and endless addenda that altered the way money behaved. There were bonds for the school district, sales taxes, property taxes and their rebates, and she’d immediately fallen in love with all the ways that Storybrooke, a tiny charming seaside community could claim tax exemptions from the state and grand money from the federal government and the more paperwork Maleficent found to file, the happier she was.

It was ridiculous. No one understood it, not Lily, who thought hoarding jewels or gold or getting into the tech industry made more sense (cell phones were shiny and everyone loved them, why not take over the old empty storefront that had been ice cream and make sure everyone had a decent phone?), not Henry, who hated filling out the most basic forms for school. 

Regina let Maleficent have her fun. She came to dinners with minute details of the tax code to question Regina about and the grant money she’d managed to squeeze out of various parts of the government that didn’t even know Storybrooke didn’t exist had made the roads better, the harbor safer and was on her way to getting a restoration budget for Belle’s library that would make their librarian overjoyed. 

They functioned like that for some time, sharing Regina’s office when necessary, caring for the town, having a drink and dinner. Nothing serious, nothing romantic, just comfortable and calm. After everything Regina had been through with love, that was enough. It was companionable, pleasant and heartening. 

Then one evening in April, Maleficent arrived at the door, forms in hand and a bright bright smile on her face. 

“Marry me.”

Maybe Regina’s cold was still affecting her hearing. “What?”

“Marry me, I have all the paperwork. If we file it by the fifteenth we can get a joint deduction for this tax year.”

She opened the door and let her very wet friend inside. Mal removed her coat and shook the rain from her hair and held up a waterproof folder full of papers. “With your salary, and mine, we’re leaving money on the table if we don’t file jointly. Especially when it comes to Henry’s college fund and your five-oh-three-C contributions from the Mayor’s office. Considering you don’t pay the mortgage on your house, getting married and claiming the work you do saving the town as tax deductible donated time to Storybrooke is the only way you’ll get the maximum return on your taxes.”

Regina blinked at her, then pressed her hand into the middle of her forehead to try and shove back her growing headache. “My taxes?”

“And mine,” Mal continued, walking Regina into the kitchen and laying out the forms in neat order on the counter. She put the kettle on and turned off the stove with a wave of magic. “Both of us can significantly decrease our tax burden if we file jointly. It only makes sense.” 

On the counter was Regina’s (fake) birth certificate, another one for Maleficent that gave her a fake name and age, and photo copies of both of their driver’s licenses. 

“My driver’s license is in my wallet.”

“Which you give me to pay for lunch at least twice a week,” Mal said, waving away that concern. The last form was a marriage license. “You sign here and here, I sign beneath you, we bring it to the courthouse in the morning and have Emma and David witness it.” 

“Emma and David?” Regina repeated, wondering if at some point her cold had become a fever, complete with delusions. “Why Emma and David?”

“The sheriff’s station is just next door to the courthouse and they’re very accommodating.” Mal removed a beautiful, gold and silver inlaid fountain pen from her vest pocket and signed the application for a marriage license, complete with the surname she’d given herself. 

“You don’t even have a last name.” She was going to sneeze, or cry, or maybe she was dreaming. 

Mal passed her the tissues. “I made one up, briefly. Obviously, I’ll take yours after we’re married.”

“Obviously.” Regina took a moment to blow her nose, and then threw away the tissue, her eyes still watering. “And I suppose you’ll move in?”

“I don’t want to, for tax purposes, I can put my apartment in Lily’s name and–” Maleficent stopped, finally clicked back from her dragon-gold-mad-mind. “You want me to move in?”

“If you’re going to be my wife, don’t you think you should?” It was impossible to sound at all seductive with a cold, but maybe Mal’s idea wasn’t ridiculous and if this was just a dream she wanted to skip to the part where they were in bed together because Mal was always so warm and Regina just couldn’t get comfortable. 

Mal handed her the pen as if it was the most precious jewel in existence. “Well then, my dear, I’ll hire a moving truck in the morning.”

Taking the pen, Regina blinked away her tears (sinuses, honestly) and signed her name. “I’ll clear half my closet.”

“You’ll stay in bed and I’ll clear the closet, you’re miserable.” Mal reached out and hugged her, holding her tight to her chest. She was so warm and comforting, tax-brain and all, that Regina sighed in relief. 

“I’m not,” she muttered into Mal’s chest. “I’m not miserable at all. I feel better than I have in years.”

“It’s saving all that money,” Mal teased, kissing her hair. “I knew you’d like that.” 


End file.
